The Tale of a Lasting Rigamortis
by weatheredtome
Summary: Ellocin and T002BruceTtype have done it yet again. Like it or not, this is the official prequel to The Secret Life of Chris and Wesker. Learn how the two operative’s sick relationship came to be. Chris/Wesker, based in 1996. - HIATUS
1. Screw You Guys

WARNING!!!!!!! This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter One: **Screw You Guys

Meet Chris Redfield. He's your average young man; after high school, he skipped college to join the Air Force. And for two long years he had the ride of his life. Until. . .

"This PFC Redfield, and I just want you sorry fucks to know that I'm having a blast!"

Lieutenant Greene cocked an eyebrow as he heard excessive gunfire and explosions coming from Chris' communicator.

"No pun intended! Weeee, this is better than sex!"

Green shook his head as he saw the reckless PFC's F-16 Fighting Falcon performing sloppy barrel rolls "That boy is some kind o' trouble."

"WhoohoooOOOO!!! Watch this Lieutenant!" Chris squealed like a twelve-year-old girl who had learned the benefits of giving blowjobs for a buck.

His Lieutenant's eyes bulged into melon-sized orbs when he caught a glimpse of the F-16 flying by…

"No hands!" Chris' knees were propped up onto his seat and with his pants down, he piloted his fighter-craft with his ass.

"RedFIELD!!!" Greene shouted over the intercom, "These aircrafts go up to five hundred miles per hour, be prepared for combat and get back the fuck back in your seat!"

"Kiss my ass, lemon-faced dick suckers!!!" he yelled as he re-took his seat, ready to kick some enemy-touschies.

"Enemy fighters on our 'six!" the Lieutenant alerted.

The rear jets fired up as Chris's aircraft accelerated speed "I've got these bitches!" he pulled back on the steering mechanism; the plane soared straight up and began to turn upside-down.

"That's too dangerous, you're gonna get us all killed!" a random pilot cried over the intercom.

But it was too late, Chris was upside-down in his F-16 and all ready passing the enemy jets. As soon as his back flip was complete, Chris began to taste remnants of the dinner he ate over two hours ago. He tried to choke back, but was unable to stop the regurgitation process. Slimy chunks of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes covered the entirety of the cockpit and Chris could no longer see where he was going. "Fuck, man!" Chris said aloud to himself as he rapidly attempted to wipe the glass clean with his hands.

"Redfield, pull up, an enemy fighter-" was all Chris heard before his aircraft jerked to the right. All he could hear was the sound of titanium-alloy and glass breaking, and then as he began to spin, warning lights began flashing bright red. The indicators showed he was losing altitude rapidly. He mashed the eject button and the roof of the cockpit flew off, sending him hurtling into the air at one hundred miles per hour. Not even a moment later, his parachute was deployed. Chris caught a brief glimpse of the enemy fighter-craft he assumed he came into contact with, it collided with one of its allies and a flurry of fire and shrapnel flew in every-which direction. Chris' eyes were dazzled by the fireworks as he placed a hand over his heart and started to sing as he continued to drift towards solid ground "Oh say can you SEE, by the dawn's early –ARGHHHH!!!!!" Chris was interrupted when his parachute got stuck in a tree. He struggled to free himself "Damn it, which string am I supposed to pull-" he was interrupted once more when one of his own shot down an enemy, the metallic fireball plunged towards him. Chris screamed at the top of his lungs as he felt the heat emitted under his feet as it crashed underneath him, the tree snapping at the base of the trunk in the collision. His blood-curdling scream continued on as the tree took him down with it. Chris stumbled out of the leafy braches, spitting out foliage as he dropped to his knees out of exhaustion "Whoa -that was SO COOL!"

"Your recklessness has cost us an aircraft! It took fourteen million dollars to build it!" Lieutenant Greene pondered why his superiors questioned his high-blood pressure problems. Obviously, it because of kids like Chris "What on earth were you thinking?? Multiple barrel rolls-"

"Sorry, about that, sir, I was trying to drift." He respectfully saluted his commanding officer. Other than his looks, his best attribute was being able to hold back laughs just as well as the best of 'em,.

Greene pinched at his temples "Do I look amused to you, Redfield?"

"No, sir."

"Well, I will be in a few minutes."

. . .

Chris sat on his bunk, packing up his belongings. Occasionally sighing, wondering what his family would do to him. It was almost impossible to get re-employed after being discharged…_Dishonorably_ discharged, to be precise.

"Hey, Redfield," His bunkmate, Tinkerson, sat next to him "I'm gonna miss you around here, it's gonna be pretty boring."

"Yeah, it's been fun and all." He laughed to himself, walking to a pay phone "I guess I did go out with a bang, right?"

Tinkerson walked with him "Totally, dude, that was amazing! I didn't even know you could do back flips in the F-16! And even after your wing rammed into the cockpit of an enemy fighter and blew up, you still survived! Man, I bet you could live through a house of brain-dead cannibals!"

Chris let out a hearty laugh as he picked up the phone and put a quarter in "Yeah, like that'll ever happen, you ar-tard."

"Hello?" Claire answered.

"Hey, sis, it's me."

"Chris! I missed you, how have you been?" she said swiftly.

"Good. Um, listen I need you to pick me up from the airport tomorrow and I was wondering if I could stay with you for a few days."

She paused for a moment "I'm on vacation right now so I went home for a few weeks…Chris, are you in trouble?"

He hit his head against the payphone; he forgot his sister knew him better than anyone. She always knew when something was up "A little…I kinda got kick out of the Air Force."

Claire paused even longer this time "…Wow… that sucks… So…basically you're screwed, huh?"

"Gee, thanks. And here I thought you were the one that was always supposed to calm me down." He said dryly.

"What else do you want me to say?? –ooohh," she gulped "Mom is gonna PRETTY angry when she finds out that you got kicked out of the Air Force."

"_WHAT?!?!"_ Chris could hear their mother's voice on the other end of the phone, it sounded like she was in the other room _"WHAT DO YOU MEAN DISCHARGED?!?!"_

"Ummm…" Claire said timidly "Chris…I think I'll talk to you later…"

Chris smacked his face with his hand, sliding down the wall "On second thought, it probably wouldn't be a very good idea for me to come home right now. See ya later, kiddo." He banged his head against wall, trying to think of somewhere to go. Then all of a sudden, a light turned on in his head… He could make a living going from city to city doing side jobs for a while.


	2. You Spell Lucky CHRIS

WARNING!!!!!!! This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Two: **You Spell Lucky C-H-R-I-S

This chapter starts off really tame, but don't let it fool you. The ending is…pretty graphic.

For about six months, Chris completed all kinds of odd jobs…Everything from getting paid under the table to be a bouncer to being hired by men who wanted to know if their wives were cheating on them. He didn't mind it at all. If anything, he really enjoyed it…Despite the low income. When some jackass at a bar flew off the handle, he got to pummel his ass. And the side jobs where any random graying-haired suspicious man would ask him to find out if his wife was cheating on him? Those were even better. It was like finding a wallet with ten bucks in it and when you return it to the owner, he/she gives you twenty dollars extra for your trouble. But he never lingered in one place too long, after about a week or two, he was onto somewhere new. He eventually stumbled into Raccoon City, here he felt that this would be the place for great things to happen to him.

Chris was walking out of a gas station and back to his car. He hated that crappy, junked up piece of shit nineteen-seventy-three Chevelle. He grudgingly bit into his Milky-Way, dreading the moment he would have to crank the engine twenty times before it'd finally turnover.

"Someone help!" an elderly woman cried "That man has run off with my purse!"

The man the old woman was screaming about ran right by Chris. He abandoned his candy bar and ran after the thief, chasing him down for less than a minute when the robber attempted to run into a clothing shop nearby. Chris grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and slammed him face-first into the cement wall. After giving him an excessive face punching, Chris picked up the old woman's handbag.

The robber was still cowering against the building "I want my mommy!"

"Yeah, well," Chris thought for a moment for the perfect intimidating 'last words'. But all he came up with was; "She'd just tell you not to do it again!" he shook his head, even he thought he sounded like a dumbass. He shook his head and walked off. "Here ya go, ma'am."

"Oh, thank you, young man!" she said gleefully, reaching into her purse.

She offered him money but he wouldn't except it, to him it was like getting money from his grandma. Though, on one hand he agreed that he'd rather have money than those ugly sweaters she gave him every year for his birthday. Which was in June, by the way. That's like giving someone who lived in New York sun block, when they lived in Seattle.

A beastly, towering man approached him "That was really nice of you to help her."

"Yeah, well that's kinda my new thing now." Chris shrugged a little, mourning the loss of a now flattened Milky-Way candy bar.

"I'm Berry Burton, by the way." He reached out for Chris' hand.

Chris was all giddy on the inside '_Wow, that was fast, I've only been in town for a few hours and I've already made my first friend_!' he thought to himself, then shook Berry's hand "Chris Redfield. It's nice to meet you, Berry."

He looked over Chris' rusty car "You seem like a nice guy and like you're down on your luck. You interested in a job?"

Chris thought for a moment, he did plan to linger in Raccoon City for a while, so maybe this was a sign that his luck was beginning to take another turn. "What kind of job?"

Berry smiled, "Good to hear you're interested, Chris. I-" Berry was interrupted by the sound of Chris' stomach growling;

He sheepishly grinned "Eh heh, sorry. It's been a while since I've had real food."

"I'm getting there myself, wanna come?"

Chris turned to his car "Okay, but I might be about ten minutes late."

Berry laughed, pointing over to a massive, brand new SUV "Need a tow?"

Chris shrugged, trying to hide his enthusiasm towards his new buddy. "It starts eventually." Another angry growl from his stomach, then joked, "Then again I don't think I can survive another hour without food."

They pulled up to a Café. Chris looked a little sad as he reached into his near-empty pockets "I was thinkin' you meant a dollar menu."

Berry hopped out of his vehicle "What's wrong with this?"

"Well, you know how I said earlier that I do odd-jobs? It doesn't pay all that great." He admitted, feeling stupid that he had previously stated that his line of 'work' was awesome.

"I'll get it. You can just pay me back later. My captain trusts my sense of other's character, I know he'll hire you."

Chris raised his eyebrow, he was suddenly sure he wouldn't get the job as he followed Berry in the door and they sat down. "You're in the military?"

Berry shook his head "I'm a S.T.A.R.S. member, it stands for special tactics and rescue service. So, basically, I work for the RPD."

Chris sighed," I guess I'm screwed then. I got kicked out of the Air Force. You guys would be the last place to hire me."

"Didn't I just said you're gonna get the job? We're in need of a new co-worker so you've got the job unless you killed someone you weren't supposed to."

Chris nodded "I guess I could give it a shot."

"So what'd you do to get kicked out of the Air Force?"

Chris later joined Berry at Jack's Bar to meet some of his co-workers, Jill and Brad. He quickly felt right at home with them, they were just a likeable as Berry was. Everything was going well for him, he thought, now that he had friends and was ninety-nine point nine percent sure he had a steady job, he just needed one last thing to top it all off . . .

He felt the chilly spring air as someone stepped inside. He turned around, and stared in awe at a man slicking back his pale blond hair, he was darkly dressed and his eyes were covered by sunglasses. Chris gulped slightly when the man approached him;

"Ah, you must be Chris." He said, shaking Chris' hand firmly "I'm Albert Wesker, the leader of the S.T.A.R.S. ALPHA team."

Chris grinned awkwardly. He wasn't sure if it was his accent, leather clothing, or the fact that he wore sunglasses indoors…at night. But whatever it was, this Wesker guy was quite the character. Not like a comic book character, more like a video game character that has realllllyyyyy bad lines. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Wesker."

"No, Chris, the pleasure is all mine." he put a light emphasis on 'pleasure', but it wasn't noticeable to his co-workers. "I'm sure you'll fit right in at S.T.A.R.S.."

Chris sighed, "I sure hope so…" he mumbled to himself.

_Chris, what're you doing, you 'tard?! Make a good impression!_

"I haven't fit in anywhere else-"

Wesker placed a hand on his shoulder, interrupting Chris "Don't worry, everyone here already adores you and I'm positive I will once I get to know you."

Barry slammed his beer glass onto the bar, "Hey, guys. Guys, listens to this." Berry let out a brief belch "A guy walks into a bar…"

"Aw, not this one again." Jill sighed, leaning her head against her hand.

"It's not, just shut up!" Berry glared defensively "Okay, he starts to have a heart attack. He says to the bartender 'I need a MD!' and the bartender hands him a Mountain Dew. The man grasps his heart and says, 'Not that– Get me an EMS!' and the bartender glares and says 'You could be a little nicer about it, buddy. One Ethereal Martini Sidewinder!' the man sinks to the floor, you know, cause he's dying and says 'Fuck it, give me a Sam Adams!' the bartender starts freakin' out and throws his hands into the air 'Someone dial 911!"

Everyone was silent for a moment, just staring at him. Then, suddenly, everyone, including Will the Bartender, was rolling on the floor laughing like they'd never heard a joke before. Barry felt like patting himself on the back, years of bad jokes always left him feeling stupid.

"I've got one!" Brad exclaimed, "How do you fit four gay guys on a stool? –Turn it upside down!"

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard!" Barry glared."

Brad glared, eyes watering "It's better than any joke you've ever told, you twat!"

Barry picked up on the fact that he was offended "Aw, wook evwybody, wittle chicken heawt is gonna cwy wike a wittle baby!"

Brad let out a loud huff then stomped outside.

Jill shook her head, grabbing Barry by the ear and dragged him to the door "You're apologizing right now, mister!"

Chris blinked a few times, and then turned his head back to Wesker "Are they always like this?"

"Alcohol will do strange things to a man…" Wesker suggestively cocked an eyebrow.

….And it went right over Chris' head (Seriously, it missed by a foot)! "Obviously. Anyway, wanna have a drink with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Wesker grinned. Not in the way you're supposed to when you first meet someone, I mean the kind of grin when you want to rip off their clothes right there! "So, Chris…How do you think your family thinks of you running off and doing god knows what?"

"I don't really care that much to be honest, my mom and dad almost shit bricks when I said I wasn't going to college to be some pistol-whipped-pussy filing papers for some retard of a CEO." Chris looked down at his beer, swirling it around in his mug "Now I'm sure there's a pile of bricks this high" he held his hand up as far as it'd go, achieving a height of about six feet " since this has happened."

"What about your girlfriend???" he brushed the tip of his shot glass across his lips.

Chris stared at Wesker for a moment, staring at his lips. He decided he did it because his lips were dry so he handed him a tube of Chapstick. "I don't have one. I dated this girl back in high school but she dumped me. She sided with my parents about the whole 'school' thing. Bitch."

"Ahh, women, who needs them?" Wesker could've patted himself on the back right then. He would've, but his leather clothes limited his stretching ability. Which would be very hard if he got a hard on.

"Yeah, man, you're totally right." Chris said as he drunkenly patted Wesker's knee. Still oblivious.

It just got bad for Wesker. He'd have to leave soon before his pants tore. He quickly thought up a diversion to get something out of Chris. What? He need something to think about tonight when he wacked off! "Chris, errr, there's a really hot girl walking up to you," Wesker grabbed Chris' arm when he tried to turn around to look at the _girl_ "Don't look! Ummm, I think she wants you to close your eyes! Yes she does!"

Chris did as he was told, waiting for the 'hot girl' to approach him.

Wesker leaned in, parting his lips slightly to brush his tongue across Chris' sweet lips. He almost blew his load right there, the young man's lips were so soft…so inviting. He pressed his lips against the other's.

Chris kissed back, thinking this chick felt rather manly, but still kept his eyes firmly shut. The tongue brushed his lips again, asking for permission to delve in. He parted his lips and the two tongues performed an erotic dance, swirling and exploring the other. He felt himself harden as it continued on. The 'girl' grunted a little and it sounded strangely like Wesker, but Chris shoved that thought into the back of his mind. The lips strayed away from Chris' and worked it's way up his collarbone, and then sexually tortured his ear. Chris grabbed onto his package, writhing a little with each breath.

Wesker pulled away and made it sound like he was talking to someone "Yes, goodnight. Okay, Chris, you can open your eyes now."

He looked around for a moment, totally naïve, not even finding it odd that he and Wesker were the only costumers in the entire bar. Chris still had his hand on his cock.

Wesker cleared his throat, "Well, Chris, that was quite a show but I Really must be heading home."

He held his hand out "Okay, like I said it was really nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to working with you, Wesker."

Wesker took it firmly "As do I, Chris. Have a splendid night."

Just a note, Chris' birthday isn't really in June (I don't think). I just made that up so it'd be funny. Oh, and another one; if you're dishonorably discharged from any military service, it's almost impossible to get another job. I guess it's just as bad as having a felony count.

The joke that Barry told, was a joke Bruce came up with randomly. I loved it so much, I added it to the story.

And I'm sorry if the make-out scene grossed anybody out, but I'm a total fag-hag so I love stuff like this. Especially since Chris was so unaware the whole time!

As always, I greatly appreciate reviews and if anyone has requests they want to be incorporated, I would love to add them.


	3. Unyielding Persistance

WARNING!!!!!!! This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Three: **Unyielding Persistence

Every night that week Chris had strange dreams about making out with Wesker…which scared him because he couldn't figure out why. He had no physical attraction to him (aside from the fact he thought he was otherwise a good-looking man) because, well, he was a guy too. Guys just don't do stuff like that. Well, Brad might. He wasn't totally sure about him yet, to the point he'd never get naked in a gym locker room with him.

"Good morning, everyone." Chris dragged his feet a little, exhausted from a lack of sleep. He took his seat, setting his cup of coffee down. Chris Looked passed Barry's desk, Wesker was at his desk filling out paper work or as he described; the 'best' part of the job. _That was sarcasm, by the way. _

"Chris…" Wesker started, not taking his eyes off his paperwork. Knowing he caught the young man off guard "How are you doing this morning?"

Did Wesker just get lucky? Or did he know that Chris was staring?

"I-I'm fine. Thanks, Wes- um, Captain." He cleared his throat nervously, and then shuffled around his desk for something to make him look busy and aloof. "You cool?"

_Good goin', Chris, no one's gonna notice you're freakin' out or anything. You're acting TOTALLY normal. That was sarcasm, too._

Wesker picked up on Chris' awkwardness and smirked sadistically, "I could be better. You ever have any of those days? When you just feel like doing something… out of character?"

Chris thought it sounded a little suggestive but wasn't sure, so he looked at everyone else. No one had even flinched so he assumed it was just his SUPER over-active imagination at work. If there was one way to describe how he felt about this whole situation, he'd probably compare it to his very confusing years of puberty. All those weird feelings and his pecker going hard at the weirdest times, "Um, sometimes, I guess. –Well, I mean, not in a weird, creepy, sexual kind of way…" Chris almost smacked himself. Yeah, this was definitely the second coming of puberty. "Ha, I was just joking. Ha-ha, I have a great sense of humor, huh?"

"Hmm…" Wesker looked him up-and-down, "I suppose so."

Brad looks up from his desk "Whats wrong, rookie?" he said to Chris, "You're acting like you got butt-raped by the jolly green giant." Brad smirked proudly to himself. Before Chris had been recruited, he was the joke of the office. But that was all gonna change, because now they have a new guy for his co-workers to antagonize.

Chris turned around to face Brad "That must make you feel really big to say that, chicken-heart." He pops his knuckles "But tell me, when you park your car, does your garage say 'is it in yet?'. If not, then your garage is a dirty, lying whore."

Jill, Barry, and Wesker looked up at Brad. This was the moment of truth for everyone. To see if Brad would finally stand up for himself, or run away crying like a confused four-year-old boy who's been grounded from playing with his Barbie dolls.

Brad was deep in thought for about three minutes, when finally, he opened his mouth; "I'm rubber and you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you."

_I bet Brad's feeling the same way Chris felt a moment ago. Brad, hun, now would be a good time to smack yourself._

Chris inhaled sharply to keep himself from laughing. He knew Brad's ego already had to be hurting, he had to finish him quickly "Wow, Brad. It took you over a minute just to come up with, quite possibly, the lamest (and over-used) first-grader come-back in the history of mankind."

Brad's eyes watered as he balled his fists defensively, "FUCK YOU, LIKE I FUCKED YOUR MOM-"

Chris advanced swiftly at Brad, arm raised in a hammer-fist position.

"AHHHHHH!!!!!!" Brad screamed at the top of his lungs, unintentionally imitating the sound of a poodle being kicked across a room. He flailed his arms in terror and ran out the door for dear life.

Chris lowered his arm, paused for a moment. Simultaneously, everyone in the office burst into laughter. And yes, even Wesker. Cool, calm, collected Mister-Captain Albert Wesker.

Jill and Barry patted his arms "Did you," Barry said between laughs "did you see the look on his face?"

Jill nodded rapidly, clutching her side and laughing almost like she was manic. Both men looked at her suspiciously.

"Ahhhh, Chris…that was quite…enjoyable." He slicked his hair back comically, leaning back slightly in an attempt to look sexy.

Chris spun around, and amazingly, he still looked manly doing it. He had stars in his eyes, his Captain found him amusing! Chris suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy. …And then he felt something else…Down below.

_Cover yourself, Chris! Do it now!_

Barry looked down, then back up at Chris "Er, it's okay, Chris," he clears his throat "no one noticed yet, run along to the bathrooms."

Chris nodded, trying to look casually as he left the office.

Jill took a few deep breaths, finally almost over the laughed-too-much-and-split-your-rib feeling. "I kinda feel bad for Brad. Maybe we should take him to see a movie or something."

"Capital idea." Wesker concurred.

"Hey, where'd Chris go?" Jill looked around dizzily, scratching her head.

Barry suspiciously shrugged, and swallowed hard when Jill gave him the 'I know you're hiding something' look "He'll be back?"

Chris wiped sweat off his brow, as he leaned over the toilet seat more. _'Damn, you'd think after not getting any in a while I'd be done by now.'_

Brad suddenly sniffled, struggling to say "Assholes…"

Chris froze for a moment, hearing Brad's sobs. _'Grrr… Stupid pansy, go away already!'_

The entrance door opened, with heavy footsteps following and stopped next to Chris' stall. "Brad," Barry said, knocking at the stall "we're all sorry."

"Fuck you guys." Brad sniffled defensively.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that." Barry used his super-encouraging-dad-like voice. "We want you to see a movie with us. Our treat."

Chris saw two feet step down onto the floor in Brad's stall _'No wonder I didn't see that little bastard.'_

"Can we see 101 Dalmatians?" Brad's voice sounded cute and hopeful.

Barry paused for a moment "My girls want me to get it for them when it comes out on VHS. You can come over and watch it with us. Will have popcorn." He sounded like he was smiling.

"Promise?" Brad sniffled yet again.

"Of course. Now come on out, you tough man you."

Chris bit down on his lip, trying not to laugh.

The stall door opened. Brad said "…Okay…"

"That a' boy!" he patted Brad's shoulders "Now let me see your war face."

Brad smiled briefly then in his attempt ended up making more of a constipated baby face, saying "grrrr!"

"That's what I like to see! Let's get the day's work done." Barry paused for a moment "Brad…why are your pants wet?"

He looked down shamefully, sporting full-lipped pout "They're tears."

_Aw!_

"We should probably get you some water too." Barry led Brad out the door.

Chris heard the door shut. He went back to his business. The door opened again. "Hey, Chris," Barry tapped on his stall door "sorry that took so long."

"It's OKAY." He said irately "I'm only getting softer with each passing moment."

"Sorry, man, uh, see you back in the office. Oh, and don't forget to wash your hands!" Barry's voice disappeared out the door.

"Fuckin' finally." He muttered to himself, and then all his thoughts went blank again as he inhaled through his teeth "….Mmmmmm…"

"_Ahhhh, Chris…that was quite…enjoyable_." Chris heard Wesker's voice inside his head, then visions of him pulling him close and stroking him vigorously…Sweeping his tongue over his collarbone then upward into a kiss. Chris pulled himself out of his unwelcomed trance. But a second too late "God, whats wrong with me?" He leaned his sweaty head against the cold tile wall. Cursing himself over and over.

They all arrived at 8 o' clock sharp. The line was unbearably long. Chris stood as far away from Wesker as possible.

"Ughh, there's five minutes until the movie starts!" Brad whined to Joseph, who ended up going with them too.

"Attention!" a woman voice came over the intercom. "For showings scheduled within the next ten minutes, a ticket booth will be opened for the said patrons."

Jill dragged Wesker over to the new booth, saying to the person behind the glass; "Six tickets for Independence Day, please!"

"Thanks for pickin' up the bill, Wesker." Joseph took his ticket and walked inside with Brad.

"It was the least I could do." He shot a glance at Chris, who saw but coyly averted his eyes.

Barry pulled Chris to the side "Hey, dude, mind if I asked what that was about earlier?"

Chris knew he'd bring up his embarrassing… ummm, problem sooner or later so he had already formed a fool-proof excuse "Um, Jill touched me, and you know…"

Barry nodded in sympathy, but joked "It's okay, buddy, I was just making sure you didn't have the hots for me or anything."

He managed to pull off a mostly-convincing laugh.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE MOVIE IS SOLD OUT?!"

They turned around and saw a young brunette female pointing her finger at the theater employee. The man blinked a few times "I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know what else to tell you. I just gave away the last tickets."

Barry and Chris joined their co-workers at the concession stand, "I guess that means that we're all gonna be separated."

"That's no big deal. I like sittin' by myself anyway." Joseph stated.

"I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. I'll be back." Chris walked off to the bathrooms, he wasn't feeling to great all of the sudden. He turned on the sink to flush his face with cold water. He ran his hand over the back of his neck, watching the water drip from his hair and face into the drain. "Stop acting so weird, Chris. Get a grip over yourself." He said aloud. Chris dried himself off and found his way to the theater. He looked around for the final empty seat, starting from the front. But couldn't see one, Jill waved to him, she was sitting with Barry and Brad. Barry motioned for him to go toward the back. He climbed the minuscule steps to the very back… he realized his seat was next to Wesker. He gulped and took his seat, eyes on the screen.

"Chris? Would you like some popcorn?" Wesker offered, the popcorn bucket was in his lap.

He briefly looked at the man just long enough to decline his offer. He was STILL wearing his sunglasses, Chris was beginning to he was hiding something behind them. "Thanks for the ticket." He said timidly.

"My pleasure, Chris." Wesker smiled.

'_Does he have to say my name so frequently?'_ Chris thought to himself.

_Big explosion._

"Whoa! That's awesome!" Chris said, finally enjoying himself halfway through the movie…Reaching over every minute to get popcorn out of Wesker's enormous bucket.

_Hehe, I made a funny._

Wesker looked down at the bucket in his lap, grimacing. He was getting impatient with Chris because he wouldn't dig his hand down into it. He feigned a sigh.

Chris looked at him "Don't like the movie?"

"It's not that, I got M & Ms, I wish I didn't put them right into the bottom. I think they sunk to the bottom." He signed again.

"What's wrong with that?" He was fully attentive now.

"I'll get butter all inside my gloves but I can't take them off because… it'll end the same way." He wiggled his gloved fingers "Do you think you can fish a few way out for me?"

"Sure." He said hesitantly. Chris slid his fingers down the side of the bucket, moving towards the middle.

Wesker's eyes watched his reactions.

"Wesker, I don't think there's any M &-" Chris suddenly felt something unusual. …Something that shouldn't be mix with popcorn… He ran his finger along it, trying to figure out – '_shit…_' it was long and thick…and hard. Chris' eyes grew wide.

The Captain grabbed his hand before he could pull it out.

Chris immediately tries to struggle "Wesker, what the-?

"I'm sorry, Chris but I've been extremely aggravated lately. The only problem is that I refuse to masturbate. I know it was horrible to trick you like this but I knew you'd be naïve to what men do when there aren't any girls to their disposal."

"I am not naïve! This is just wrong!" Chris whispered defensively.

"No it's not. You can't honestly tell me you've never done anything like this before." He smirked when Chris looked down in defeat.

_Come on, Chris, you know you want it._

He swallowed, "My eagle scout instructor told me it was okay between friends. Just as long as no one else knows, he said they wouldn't understand… It was okay because there weren't any girls around."

"No you understand my predicament." He slid his hand to Chris' lap, running his hand along his stiffened length. "Unbutton your pants."

"But-" he protested.

"Chrisss." He tossed his coat on his lap, and one-handedly unbuttoned and unzipped Chris' jeans.

Chris loudly inhaled through his teeth, Wesker's hands were callous against his sensitive skin.

People around them hushed him.

Wesker smiled sadistically and applied more pressure. "Imitate me."

Without thinking, Chris reflexively took Wesker into his hand and started to pump him.

Several minutes later, Wesker felt Chris' concentration slipping, indicating that he was on edge. He slowed down, "Chris, quicken your pace."

He lazily opened his eyes, then did what he was told. He bit his lower lip when Wesker resumed.

They rapidly grew closer.

_The credits began scrolling._

"Finally." Jill said, getting up to go to the bathroom. She got into the line of people from the back of the room that were already leaving.

"Did you see those two dudes wackin' each other off back there?" a person said to another.

'_Ewwwww… that is severely nasty.' _She thought to herself, pushing past the crowd.

After the ending credits, the five ALPHA team males met up to walk out together.

"Hey," Brad frowned "that's where the popcorn went!"

"Here, you can have it." Wesker handed him the bucket. He was happy he decided to dump the popcorn into an empty bucket left beside someone that sat beside them.

Brad ate a few hand fulls and suddenly made a lemon-face "This stuff is wayyy to salty!"

Pretty awesome, huh? (Sighs) Yeah, it was. I personally think it was a little long for a chapter, but that's okay. Oh, yeah, LMFAO. You guys know I hate proof reading, right? Well, for this chapter, I proof read it out of boredom and am ashamed to say I've been typo-ing Barry's name this whole time! Honestly, I can't see how I did it every flippin' time. That kinda kills my 50 WPM self-confidence. I'm suck a 'tard bucket. I'm not letting my brother proof read anymore (He's only fourteen so he reads all the…stuff that's not bad. I.E. I won't let him read anything sexually descriptive).

Please, everyone, let me know what you think, I'm always open to suggestions. Thanks for reading and I'll get chapter four up ASAP.


	4. Genesis

**WARNING!!!!!!! **This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy! **P.S. **If you're reading this despite the fact that you don't like the idea of a Chris and Wesker pairing parody, I don't care. I'm not forcing you to read it. Flames will be laughed at, mostly because you're too retarded to be able to laugh at your favorite characters. I can. And I am. **P.P.S.**, this is Bruce, the co-writer. I'm a huge fan of RE (and most likely a bigger fan THAN YOU.), and I find this concept hilarious. And I don't like gay guys, -okay that's a lie, I don't like the prissy-mcbutt-gravy ones. FYI, that was another lie, have a sense of humor. **P.P.P.S.** This is Wesker, moody, no-sense-of-humor Wesker. I would like to say that I find this story to be quite delightful. Thank you for your time. NOW EAT THE UROBOROS!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Four:** Genesis

Work the next day had been awkward as usual; Barry cleaned and baby talked his gun replicas. Wesker sexually nibbled on his thumb whenever he looked at Chris. Brad had been guzzling water all day because he thought he was dehydrated. Jill (in a couth manner) picked her nose. Okay, she wasn't really being discrete about it, she was practically scratching her brain and wiping the evidence on the vacant desk on the other side of hers.

_Its okay, Jill. We all do it. [Looks at readers] What, I'm the only one? Wow, I'm weird. Uncomfortable moment. . ._

Oh, yeah, back to the subject. And Chris was still a little confused about the whole incident at the theater. He needed someone to talk to. Someone that could consol him. The last few hours of work passed painfully slow, but once they were finally over, Chris couldn't have been more relieved. Once he arrived at his new apartment, he called his sister.

"So, has mom cooled down yet?" Chris wiggled his toes, wearing his boots all day made them feel itchy and crammed.

"Not really, she's been ranting about how she thinks you had 'relations' with who's ever in charge to get you that job. Oh, and she thinks you need more discipline. And that you need to call her more often." Claire shoved her homework to the side and pulled a motorcycle magazine out of her desk.

"Well I would if she wasn't such a-"

"Chris." Claire interrupted. She knew their mother was really hard on him, but it wasn't because she hated him. Claire convinced herself that menopause does that to women her age.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But seriously, my job's great. All I do all day is fill out reports and talk to doughnut munchers."

Claire casually flipped the page "Aren't you technically a doughnut muncher, too then?"

"No. I hate those things. They make my ass look big."

Claire's eyes bulged, suddenly feeling nauseous with thoughts of her brother scarfing doughnuts and getting fat. "CHRIS REDFIELD! You're making me wanna puke up my dinner!"

"It might not be so bad coming up, what'd you eat?" As soon as the word 'eat' escaped his lips, his tummy rumbled angrily as a reminder to feed it.

"I'm in college. What else do college kids eat?" She flipped another page.

"I don't know? Remember, I'm the 'poor lost baby that won't listen to his mommy and go to school like normal good little babies'. Grr." He started ranting about his mother again. Then went back to the subject without missing a beat, "I've known lots of college girls, so I'm gonna go with dick. The answer is 'what is dick', Alex?"

Claire ignored him, glaring holes through the phone and impersonating Alex Trebeck from Jeopardy "No, I'm sorry, CHRISTOPHER, the correct answer is top Raman. 'What is top Raman'. Now you've fallen to negative seven-thousand dollars."

"Ouch."

"That's what you get." Her voice had a tinge of humor. But mostly irritation.

"No, I cut my finger." Chris' voice was muffled because his finger was in his mouth.

Claire raised an eyebrow "Doing what?"

"Cutting open a can of tomato soup with my old Air Force knife." He pouted to himself. If his mommy was there, she'd kiss it for him.

_Sad Face._

"That's still Whatcha get. Just stir the soup really well and you won't taste the blood." She looked at her clock "Hey, Chris, I gotta go. I need to get this project done before three. I have to get up at six to get ready for school."

"Damn, woman. You're only getting three hours of sleep? That sucks!"

Claire tilted her head at the sight of a man in her magazine wearing nothing but chaps. "Yeah, you don't know the half of it; every morning everybody in the class drags their feet in and moaning when the teacher says good morning. We're all like zombies, dude! It's funny. But it sucks. And we keep doing it."

"Hey, sis, can I ask you something?" Chris changed the subject, finally remembering why he called her in the first place.

Claire knew that tone, and the fact that he called her sis. He only did that when he was between a rock and a hard place. "…Did you fuck up _again_?"

"No. Um…" he paused for a moment "…One of my co-workers have a problem. -Not me."

"Go on?"

"Well, I don't know why he told me this, since obviously I'm not gay, but he's been having all these weird feelings and stuff around our Captain. I don't know what to do. I mean what to tell him, my co-worker."

Claire blinked a few times. "Well have you talked to Wesker about it yet?"

"No."

"Well, I think you should talk to him for your 'co-worker'. Wesker might even like you- I mean your co-worker back."

He knew deep down it was a bad idea to call her from the start. Of course she helped him figure out what to do, but now she knew. Wait, wait, wait, now she had ASSUMPTIONS. Yes, assumptions. Nothing more. "Thanks, Claire, you're awesome. Don't tell mom."

"K. Love you, bye." She hung up the phone, "Finally, now I can get some work done. I thought he'd never shut up."

Chris closed his cell phone, sighing to himself "Wesker, you know that time in the theater? Well, I wouldn't mind if we did it again." He shook his head, wasn't any good. "I want to keep doing stuff like that. You know, since I'm single and-"

He was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. "Hello?"

"Hello, Chris." Wesker's husky voice answered. "We've been called in to an emergence over at the Up Town Warehouse. There's a disgruntled employee with a gun. Do you know the way?"

Chris held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he pulled his socks back on. "Yeah. I'll be there in less than ten minutes!" he hung up his phone.

_Yay! Chris' first field assignment!_

Chris joined his Captain and the others at the front door. Forest was among them, most likely because he was the best sniper of the S.T.A.R.S.

Wesker was checking the clip on his nine-caliber 92FS "Alright, everyone, the objective is to obtain the mad man with any means necessary. Jill, Barry, I want you two to take this door. Chris and I shall take the back. Brad and Forest, you two take the roof," he looked at Forest "I need you to wait at the sunroof. Load your rifle with tranqs and fire when you have a clear shot. Move out!"

"Eh," Brad raised his hand in protest "It'd probably be a good idea if I waited here just in case the bad guy called for backup."

Wesker raised an eyebrow "And what if he did, Brad?"

Brad was almost trembling in fear "Good point, Captain, so on second thought I'll go with Forest."

Forest rolled his eyes "Good goin'," he thought for a moment "chicken …shit?"

"Why don't you take your redneck butt back to North Carolina?" Brad spat.

"Hey, buddy, you and rednecks have a lot in common." He informed.

Brad crossed his arms, "And what's that?"

"Ya'll both fuck your cousins!" he stuck his tongue out.

"Okay, children." Wesker said "That's enough."

"Alright, Capt.!" Forest shouldered his sniper rifle and threw an arm around Brad "Let's go, cuz."

Brad started going up the ladder, with the help of Forest, of course. He turned around, panic obvious on his features "Wait! Don't leave me alone with him!!!"

"Keep it movin', pretty boy." Forest smacked his ass "And squeal like a pig, I like that!"

Jill and Barry stood at the front door, signaling them that they were in position.

Wesker nodded "Chris, let's go."

Chris followed Wesker around the building, going through the things he'd practiced to say to the man in his head.

"You ready for this, Chris?" Wesker placed a hand on Chris' shoulder.

Chris just nodded nervously, looking deeply into his Captain's sunglasses.

"Open and clear!" Wesker kicked the door down.

"Right!" he readied his weapon, stepping into the building. No one was in sight "Clear!"

Wesker followed cautiously "Good work, you're moving up quickly as my best man."

"…I…actually wanted to talk to you about that, Wesker." Chris looked down bashfully, then back up at the Captain.

"Save it for later, Chris. We have a mission to complete." Wesker slicked his hair back, seemingly knowing what Chris was really talking about.

They ran through the factory area towards the control room.

"Sh, wait," Wesker pressed his back firmly to the wall, pulling Chris with him. As his hand rested on the young man's chest he could feel the heartbeat fluttering underneath.

They heard footsteps walking towards them, "Yeah, the doctor said to keep putting the cream on it and it should stop bleeding."

Wesker gave Chris a brief nod. As soon as the men were in view, he grabbed the closest one by the arm and threw him to Chris. He pulled the other man into a chokehold and knocked him out.

Chris twisted his captive's arm and slammed his elbow next to the man's neck. He limply fell to the ground. "Ha ha, that was awesome!"

"There'll be plenty more later. Let's go." He motioned the other back into formation as they approached the control room door. He touched his earpiece, "Barry, come in."

"We're in position. On your signal, Captain." Barry answered.

He nodded to himself, "Do you copy, Forest?"

"Yes, sir. I've got the hostages in my sight. All I need now is for our pretty little host to show his pretty little ass."

"Good, alright. On my count; one," everyone readied their weapons "two," Wesker and Barry placed their free hands on the door handles "three!"

The doors flung open, the assailant reflexively scattered bullets everywhere and then grabbed one of the hostages.

The man struggled "Please don't kill me, Ted, you know I gotta family!"

Chris glanced up just quick enough to catch Barry wincing. He gulped, "Everyone back off! We weren't sent here to get anyone killed!"

"Chris, you idiot, what're you doing?!" Jill yelled.

He ignored her, looking straight at Barry "You heard the hostage. He's got kids, too, Barry."

Barry inhaled sharply, slowly lowering his gun to the side and stepping towards Chris and Wesker.

"Barry, not you too!" Jill protested, yet backing away as well.

The crazed man shook his gun at Chris, backing towards the rest of the hostages "You're a smart guy, don't want these losers to die! Hahaha, 'cus I'll do it!"

In the next instant a mix of a gunshot, shattering glass, and screaming people occurred. The lunatic's arm tensed up, pulling the trigger as he fell. More screams. The S.T.A.R.S. members swarmed the armed man. He was out cold.

"Did I get 'im, Capt.?" Forest called from the roof.

"What do you think?" Wesker shook his head as Marvin entered. The police was known for their impeccable timing.

"Good work, ALPHA team-"

"Hey, what about me?" Forest interrupted.

"…You too, son." Marvin rolled his eyes. He placed a hand of the Captain's shoulder, "We'll take it from here, Wesker. Thank you."

Jill glared at Chris "What the hell was that, anyway?"

"Tactics. If he thought we had the upper hand, he'd stay where he was, and then probably even start picking off the hostages…'Make him feel like he's in control, he freaks out and backs into a corner. It gave Forest a clean shot and nobody got hurt." He faintly smiled.

"Sheer genius!" Marvin tapped his chin as his officers cuffed the man and moved him to a medical transporter.

"Come with me, Chris." Wesker ordered.

Chris silently followed him outside to his car.

"First of all; that was the most reckless, unthought-out 'plan' I've ever heard of."

He flinched.

"And it worked flawlessly. We make a great team, you and I." Wesker patted his right arm.

Chris inhaled through his teeth, tightly gripping his arm "Argh-"

"What's the matter?" Wesker stepped closer to him. He saw blood seep between Chris' fingers.

"Almost flawless." He weakly joked.

He opened the door to his backseat, sitting Chris down "Let me see it-" He pulled his hand away, "it just looks like a flesh wound." He leaned over Chris, reaching his hand under the passenger seat and pulled out a first aid kit. He set the kit in the young man's lap and began to clean the wounded area of blood.

Chris tried to shrug away "I'll be fine, seriously."

Wesker ignored him, spraying an antibiotic on it. He looked up at Chris as he pulled out the bandages "So what was it that you wanted to tell me earlier?"

He winced when the bandages wrapped around his bicep, he suddenly felt a surge of anxiety. Not sure what he'd say, "Never mind it…It's not important."

Wesker tied off the bandage. "…If you say so." He placed a hand on Chris' forearm to keep balance while he reached to put the kit back.

"I just have to know-" Chris gulped, finally finding his courage. He caressed Wesker's face with his free hand to pull him into a kiss. Once their lips connected, Chris felt over heated and knots forming in his stomach, afraid of Wesker's reaction. They melted as soon as he heard the first aid box hit the floor, the lid came open and it's contents spilt onto the floor.

Wesker lifted the freed hand to touch Chris' face, gently thumbing his chin. He slid his tongue between the young man's lips, and Chris' tongue shyly brushed against it. This kiss was softer, more controlled than the first. It was all the better to Wesker, mostly because Chris made the first move.

_Which is totally hot. Am I Right? _

His thoughts were brought back to Earth when Chris ran his hands explored his body, finding their way under his shirt to tease at his nipples.

_Yeah, I am so right…. Lay'sigh._

He grunted slightly, feeling himself grow uncomfortably stiff behind his leather pants. He nipped at Chris' bottom lip to keep himself from groaning too loud. Chris slid backward further into the car. Wesker grinned, closing the door behind him. He leaned over Chris; they were already practically dry humping each other. His right leg slid under Chris' left as Wesker stripped him of upper clothing. He roughly kissed and tormented Chris' neck, moving torturously slow as he passed his collarbone and chest. Stopping at his navel until he unzipped his pants. Chris' breath stopped short when he felt Wesker's hot and wet tongue slide across his head, consuming secretions. Chris bit his lip so hard that it drew blood, and he watched Wesker sit up, removing his shirt and sliding his pants to his thighs. Chris stared at his glory, not even paying attention to the fact that Wesker looked rather silly still wearing his gloves and sunglasses. But even if he did, he probably wouldn't have care. He sat up enough to lick the tip. The innocent 'may I?' look that Chris shot him drove Wesker wild. Almost enough for him to cream his pants…er, I mean Chris' face. . .

* * *

As you can probably tell, I'm feeling kinda lazy. This one probably sucks, but oh well. It's done, right? ^_^.

_"Why don't you take your redneck butt back to North Carolina?" Brad spat._

-This is quite possibly my favorite line in this long-ass chapter, solely because I am from North Carolina. I randomly got the idea to pick on the redneck stereotypes as soon as I had Forest go along with them to apprehend the disgruntled employee. I was like 'hey, it'd be funny as shit if someone told Forest to go back to where he was from.' And I have no idea where that is. So, I like picking on myself, this was a perfect moment to do so and make it more obvious. (in this story all the lame comebacks are something I'd say, if anything at all. In the Secret Life of Chris and Wesker, my personality shines through Rebecca Chambers. Who, in the story, is a total obsessive fag-hag. Do note that I don't own a Phantasy-Chris doll, I just wish I did :o)~.)


	5. The Longest Day

**WARNING!!!!!!! **This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy! **P.S. **If you're reading this despite the fact that you don't like the idea of a Chris and Wesker pairing parody, I don't care. I'm not forcing you to read it. Flames will be laughed at, mostly because you're too retarded to be able to laugh at your favorite characters. I can. And I am. **P.P.S.**, this is Bruce, the co-writer. I'm a huge fan of R.E. (and most likely a bigger fan THAN YOU.), and I find this concept hilarious. And I don't like gay guys, -okay that's a lie, I don't like the prissy-mcbutt-gravy ones. FYI, that was another lie, have a sense of humor. **P.P.P.S.** This is Wesker, moody, no-sense-of-humor Wesker. I would like to say that I find this story to be quite delightful. Thank you for your time. NOW EAT THE UROBOROS!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Five: **the Longest Day Ever

.

..

…

"Hey, Chris –Jesus, what happened to you? Did you get mauled by an animal?" Barry raised concern about Chris' appearance.

His lips were flushed and bruised, his neck was decorated with bite marks and he looked purely dog-ass-tired. "Somethin' like that." He flashed a quick grin in Wesker's direction as soon as everyone had turned around. A slight shade of pink graced Chris' cheek when he thought about the previous night. On one hand, he couldn't believe he made a move on Wesker and that he was…. For lack of a better word, 'cool' with it. On the other, if he didn't do it then, he probably would've got nuts with 'what if?'s. Either way, it made him a very happy little camper simply because he wasn't confused anymore. Though the fact that he got boners when he thought about his captain's bare muscular chest bothered him a little, he otherwise felt natural about it. He began to wonder when they were going to be able to fuck. The idea excited him, but at the same time, raised questions. Like who's going to be the taker? The idea of it being him left Chris unsettled. Solely because this one time, when he was doing a side job, you know the one, where he got to 'spy' on married men's wives? She stuck a finger 'where the sun don't shine' and it felt… odd, and hurt a little. He couldn't imagine how bad it'd suck to have a long, thick,

_-okay, okay, Chris, remember what happened last time you thought about Wesker's dick? Alright then, stop before you excite yourself._

"You okay, sweetie? Your face looks like a beet." Jill turned around from her desk.

Chris snapped his head toward her, any faster and it would've flown off. He swiftly sat down, averting his face from hers "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

"He probably had a lot of 'fun' last night." Barry suggested.

Wesker cracked a smile, clearing his throat a little.

The S.T.A.R.S. newbie blushed deeper, and unconvincingly uttered "No, I was at home the rest of the night."

"Well, maybe that's your problem." She nodded in concurrence with herself.

"Any suggestions, _doctor Phil_?" Chris sarcastically said.

She tapped her chin "A club? There's only one in town and it's pretty cool. The top level has a bar a billiards tables and the lower one has the dance floor and another bar. I used to go there all the time in high school."

He raised an eyebrow "High school?"

"Well, yeah… I never had anything better to do on a Tuesday night so my friends and I would go up there with some fake I.D.s, it was really fun."

"Sounds like a plan." Wesker said slyly "Perhaps we should leave work a little early today."

Chris blinked "We can do that?"

"This is a small town, Chris," Barry reminded him "I mean, haven't you noticed that ninety percent of the time we're filing _police_ reports? That's so we don't get bored and start eating people's brains out. Mmmm, brains –oops! Time to get back to work!" he joked, turning back to his files.

"It's settled then." Wesker restacked his papers. "Chris?"

"I donno… I've never been to one before…"

Jill grabbed his arm, "Oh come on, you big baby, it'll be fun. I'll show you the ropes. We'll find you a cutie. Right guys?"

Barry held his hands up in protest "No go, I've got kids."

"What about you, Wesker? You're not gonna be sourpuss, too, are you?"

The captain looked at Chris. He knew it would be crowded, annoyingly loud music playing, drugged-up losers, used condoms sticking to the bottom of his shoes, and cheap-scantily-clothed women. Despite the negatives, there would also be alcohol and Chris. Sexy, innocent, luscious Chris. "I suppose so."

Chris climbed the stairs to the upper level of the bar with Jill following close behind, irritation plain on her face. She took Chris to his apartment to help him find something to wear and she swore up and down that he hadn't been clothing shopping since he moved to Raccoon. The poor boy only three pairs of shoes; brown hiking boots, dirty gym sneakers, and his black work boots. Though it pained her to do it, she was forced to have him wear a white undershirt, cammo pants, and his work boots.

_I think her exact words were "That's the best I can do for you. I hope the girls will be able to look passed your outfit and just see the muscles." Yeah, Jill, that's all we want to see. Under the clothes {{Drool}}._

Needless to say, Chris was already feeling self-conscious. Mostly because there were so many people. He didn't think that many people even existed in the entire city. His mission objective tonight: find Wesker, chill for a bit, and get the hell out of dodge. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he spotted his first objective and his feet suddenly felt like they had cement blocks around them. He didn't even notice when Jill bumped into him and mumbled something to the effect of_ "Damn it, Chris, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you stuck? Did someone jiz on the floor again?"_

Wesker saw Chris as well, a gentle yet seductive smirk graced his face. He immediately got up from his seat and began to walk towards them –literally in slow-mo-, slicking his hair back like the cocky bastard he was.

Chris swallowed hard, completely stunned at his captain's super-sexy {3} appearance, which was only accentuated by the quickly flashing-multi-colored strobe lights. Fortunately, he didn't get a boner because he'd already beat off five times (In the span of two hours!) earlier to prevent such occurrences.

"Chris," he smiled, taking the S.T.A.R.S. newbie's hand into a firm handshake.

"H-hey." He stuttered as the odd sensation known as 'melting' practically turned his legs to jello. At twenty-three years old, it was the first time he'd ever truly gotten flustered because of anyone. Though, it was expected because the captain looked really hot in the black dress shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to show off some of his chest. His matching pants looked just right, too, but he could only imagine what it'd be like to rip the clothes off of him and-

Jill punched Chris in the arm, breaking him from his little daydream. "Are you gonna kiss him or what?"

Chris' face flushed, but luckily it wasn't obvious "W-what?"

"I said; you've been staring at him like you wanna fuck him. Now move, I wanna drink!" she whined.

"Oh, sorry." Chris stepped forward so she could get by. As he did, he accidently pressed his body against Wesker's, whom, of course, didn't move.

In fact, he put an arm on Chris' back and whispered in his ear "You look bothered by something, Chriss."

His feeling of the older man's breath on his neck caused him to close his eyes "W-Wesker, seriously, there are people here."

"So?" he turned around, with his hand still on Chris' back, he lead him back to his table "The people here are too hyped up on acid to notice."

Chris looked at the pool table and then at Wesker. Good, a game, that should take his mind off the captain's 'hot bod'. "Wanna play?"

"I'd love to play with you, Chris." He smirked, knowing Chris would take the sentence the other way.

"I'll go get the balls and a drink. Want something?" his blush resurfaced when Wesker merely looked as if he were undressing him with his eyes. As he walked off, he tried to shake it off.

Wesker leaned against the pool table, awaiting Chris' return when Forest and Brad's conversation took an interesting turn.

Forest threw an arm around Brad's shoulder, "You sure gotta purty smile, boy."

Brad tried to lean away "Okay, Forest, you're starting to freak me out with this shit."

Chris returned, over-hearing them "Forest."

"What? He does, just look at his little DSLs!" he pushed his hands together on either side of Brad's face, making his mouth puff like a blowfish.

"Seriously, cut it out." He grabbed Forest's shoulder, pulling him away.

"Dangit, Chris, I'm just fuckin' with him. Ain't that right, buttercup?" he batted his eyelashes gayly. In both senses of the word.

Wesker interrupted "Do you like being on the BRAVO team?"

"Ye?" is what came out of his mouth, and luckily, the mid-westerners understood it was a 'yes' spoken in his backwoods-redneckinese language.

"Then leave my pilot alone." He crossed his arms.

Forest stood up quickly, huffing and mumbling as he stomped off "Oooh, my name is Wesker, since I'm the captain I get to do what ever I wont."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Brad jumped out of his chair and practically bowed to Wesker like he was some kind of god.

_What am I talking about? He is a god –a sex god! Duh!_

Wesker shook his head "Honestly, I wasn't going to do anything until Chris spoke up."

Brad turned to Chris "Can I do anything to repay you? –Shine your shoes, bring you lunch to work? Backrub perhaps?"

_He reminds me of the Adoring Fan from the Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. . ._

"Come on, man, you're acting like I beat up the fifth grade bully or something." Chris simply shrugged it off, hoping the backrub thing wasn't suggested with ulterior motives.

Wesker 'chummily' rubbed the back of Chris' neck "He'll be fine, Brad, why don't you go and have another blue motorcycle?"

The S.T.A.R.S. newbie watched his captain's face like the dingle-berry he was. That's right, Chris was a big, clueless dummy. Not that that's a huge surprise, right?

"That worked well. Now, where were we?" he slicked his hair back AGAIN.

Chris blushed a shade that would put Ronald McDonald's hair to utter shame "Um, we were going to play?"

"Now, Chris, you know you have to be more specific or I might get the wrong idea." He brushed the tips of his gloved fingers inside Chris' waistband.

Poor Chris, it sent him into a stuttering stupor, "P-p-p-p-pool!"

"Oh, so you want to go swim now? It's too bad I didn't bring a swimsuit…I guess we'll have to strip down to nothing…" Wesker smiled smugly, it wasn't every day that he was able to send a fully-grown young man into puberty again.

_Yeah, obviously I like the puberty bit. It's funny._

"I, mean, uh, b-bill-iards!" he nervously played with his fingers, averting his eyes from the super-sexy Wesker. "I Want You" by Savage Garden was playing downstairs and it wasn't helping Chris out any. He tried to think about how much he hated that he knew who they were, having a younger sister and all. But it all proved futile, he ended up thinking about the lyrics, the lyrics made him wanna strip Wesker down and do dirty, dirty things to him.

"Don't be shy, I know what you really want to do…" he trailed his other skillful hand down the young man's muscular chest.

Chris swallowed hard, speaking slow to not stutter again"…And what would that be?"

He leaned in, their faces only an inch apart "Don't feign innocence with me."

Chris involuntarily jumped away, his breathing becoming ragged "No, no, no, there are people around."

"Let's get out of here." Another sly grin graced his handsome face "Just follow my lead."

Chris silently followed him to where Brad and Jill were perched at the bar.

Brad jumped up and missed his step, already drunk off his ass (apparently blue motorcycles pack quite a punch). He fell flat on his face "Wooooo!!! These are awesome! I don't feel a thing!"

Wesker quirked an eyebrow, "Obviously. Anyway, I'm taking Chris home. He's had a bit too much."

For the first time in a long while, he actually caught on in time. As soon as Jill looked at the accused, Chris flailed his arms "Oohh, I'm fine!!!" he sloppily threw an arm around Wesker, then joined Brad on the floor "I'm having soooo much fun!"

Jill mimicked Wesker eyebrow arch "Well, okay… Um, Chris, take it easy. And don't fall down the stairs."

"Don't worry, he won't." Wesker yanked Chris to his feet, practically dragging him to the first level.

Once at the dance floor level, Chris started walking on his own. He had to speak loudly over the earsplitting music "Wow, Wes, you're really smart."

_Which, by the way, was "What Is Love?" by Haddaway._

"You're just now figuring that out?" he looked him up and down again as they wove through the crowd, music thumping in their chests. "Well then, I have much to show you."

And here is when dummy-mode kicks back in with full force "Like what?"

The older man shot him a cunning smirk "Not to sound corny, -never mind, for the sake of all things corny, I have a one-way ticket to heaven with your name on it…Chrisss. And by the way, don't call me that. I loathe nicknames."

'_But I think it's a sexy nickname…' _Chris pouted to himself before noticing some tramp trying to dance up all over HIS Weskey! He growled, screaming at the top of his lungs "Not on my watch!" and practically threw her by her hair. Okay, not _practically_… he did. The 'tramp' was hurtled about two feet away, bowling over a few dancers, who threw her back. Chris wanted the tainted bitch away from them so he pushed her hard enough to send everyone in that direction flying. Needless to say, it infuriated them, suddenly, everyone the dance floor started shoving each other, then fists flew. Chris suddenly remembered what he was doing before hand and turned to Wesker, feeling like an idiot for starting a mosh over the female's unreturned 'affection'.

Wesker stood there with his arms crossed, grinning like a madman over the damage Chris did. To him, it was actually kind of flattering to watch the young man destroy all the _quote and quote_ ambience in the room. Turning the drugged up hippies, as Wesker would call them, into bloodthirsty animals.

Chris gulped uneasily, barely dodging a random barstool, which he'd later wonder how the flippin' hell a barstool got that far into the middle of the large room in the first place "I think maybe we should get outta here!"

"I concur." He draped an arm over Chris' shoulder to lead him out. For the sake of honesty, he wanted to say something to the effect of _'that's the smartest thing you've said since I met you.'_, but decided it might lower his bed-success rate. "People are turning rather cannibalistic in here."

They stopped in a small driveway beside a quaint two-story home. Chris looked at it, then back at Wesker "I thought you told Jill you were taking me home?"

The captain grinned, opening his car door "Of course I did, I just didn't specify _whose_ home."

Chris' stomach twisted in anxiety, desire, and a few other feelings to that go with that. He watched nervously as his Captain unlocked the door.

Wesker barely waited until Chris was inside then pushed him up against the wall "Lighten up, Chriss. No need to be timid."

He grinned slightly, the palms of his hands pressing against the other's chest "Sorry, I just…I've never done this before…"

"Really? I couldn't tell." He grinned, ripping at the younger's clothing.

…

..

.

Gotta wait for the next chapter for the good stuff! (I am sooo sadistic). I am SOOOOO sorry, everyone! I hope you guys didn't forget about me!!! :'(

I'll really try to buckle down from now on and get these chapters done faster! And just so ya know, I sat here just staring at the part where they get into Wesker's house. Just stared blankly for everrrr, wondering how I'm supposed to write a sex scene that I haven't written before and make it funny. It was hard.

Yeah…about the club part… I've never been to one. In fact, the idea of them sound retarded to me. But anyway, if I fucked it up, I'm sorry. And on a side note, I didn't know what to make the songs playing at the club, so I went through my 1990's iTunes folder and found Haddaway. I was going to use Savage Garden anyway :)

I noticed some of Forest's 'vocabulary' words are…really redneck. So I devised a dictionary just in case _y'all _don't understand them… (Okay, honestly, I'm just bored)

REDNECKINESE DICTIONARY:

Purty = Pretty.

Wont = want, just pronounced redneckish

Ain't = Um…. Isn't, aren't? (Okay, so apparently I'm having trouble explaining the Redneckinese language.)

Y'all = You all.

Thank you for reading.

-Holly; Ultimate fag-hag since 1996 (at age 9)


	6. Flippin’ FINALLY, pt One

**WARNING!!!!!!! **This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy! **P.S. **If you're reading this despite the fact that you don't like the idea of a Chris and Wesker pairing parody, I don't care. I'm not forcing you to read it. Flames will be laughed at, mostly because you're too retarded to be able to laugh at your favorite characters. I can. And I am. **P.P.S.**, this is Bruce, the co-writer. I'm a huge fan of R.E. (and most likely a bigger fan THAN YOU.), and I find this concept hilarious. And I don't like gay guys, -okay that's a lie, I don't like the prissy-mcbutt-gravy ones. FYI, that was another lie, have a sense of humor. **P.P.P.S.** This is Wesker, moody, no-sense-of-humor Wesker. I would like to say that I find this story to be quite delightful. Thank you for your time. NOW EAT THE UROBOROS!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Six: **Flippin' FINALLY, pt One

.

..

…

Chris' anxiety only worsened when they entered Wesker's bedroom, mostly due to the fact that his klutzy self decided then would've been a good idea to suddenly kick in. Upon entering the bedroom, he backed into the dresser, and then fell while trying to kick his pants off. Even after they got naked and onto the bed, they still weren't safe from his antics; He ended up poking himself in the eye with Wesker's manhood during a blowjob, how he managed would forever be beyond the captain. And again when Wesker leaned over to fetch a tube of lube from his bedside drawer, he made the grave mistake of smacking his captain on the ass "I bet you like that, you little whore!"

Wesker looked at him incredulously for a moment, then thumped the head of Chris' erection, feeling quite accomplished when Chris grabbed himself and whimpered in pain "You're lucky I didn't tear it off."

"What'd I do? Chicks dig that kind of stuff!"

"Do I look like I have a pussy to you?" Wesker unscrewed the lube's cap.

Unbeknownst to him, he was just digging himself deeper every time he opened his mouth "No, but I find you as hot as one."

Wesker cleared his throat, "I was hoping I didn't have to do this but you've left me no choice." He reached under his mattress and pulled out some rope.

"W-wait, think about this, Wesker! You don't really want to do this!"

"Oh, believe me, I do. You WILL enjoy it as well." Wesker snapped at the rope, binding Chris' hands to the head of the bed.

Chris pouted, pleading "Weskieeeee!!!!"

"Handcuffs or rope, Chris, it's your choice."

"What ever, okay??? Just be gentle!"

"I promise, Chris." He said, slicking a few of his fingers "As gentle as relentless **B**utt-**S**ex-**A**ss-**A**ssault can get."

Chris gulped, "That doesn't sound very pleasant."

"It is." He placed sloppy kisses up and down Chris' neck region, instantly melting the fear and anxiety the younger had been feeling.

Up until Chris warm and slippery entered his entrance, causing him to yelp in a small ounce of pain. Once again, up until Wesker's finger reached something deep within him. Wesker trailed his free hand up the sensitive skin of the brunet's ribcage, eliciting a full-out laugh from him and he ended up accidently kicking Wesker off the bed.

"Damn it," Wesker cursed "I give up."

"No, no, I'll be good! I PROMISEEEEEE!!!" Chris whined desperately.

Wesker stood up with his hands on his hips, "I honestly don't see how you managed to make it with a woman."

Chris' erection suddenly jumped in excitement as he stared at the 'godlike' figure before him, not even hearing Wesker say anything.

Wesker grinned "Well, looks like _junior_ is happy. -Ish. Oh, alright, but you're not allowed to move at all. Understood?"

"Yaaayyy! Yessir!!"

Wesker crawled back on top of him "I'm not going to be as gentle as I originally planned, mind you." He stuck two fingers in his ass, stretching as quickly as he was able, only receiving minimal resistance from the 'take-ee'. He brushed his lips across Chris collarbone, giving a few more swift thrusts of his fingers before removing them. He placed the tip of his head at Chris' entrance "I'm not going to lie, this is going to hurt like a bitch. Brace yourself."

"GYAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Chris screamed as Wesker steadily pushed into him.

Wesker would've raised an eyebrow if he weren't…distracted. He'd forgotten how wonderfully tight virgins were. Simultaneously his face and stomach twisted in a euphoric manner. He grabbed a handful of Chris' hair to urge him faster "Mmm… Chriiss." Their tongues danced in an exotic display as Wesker started his thrusting off slow, but firmly. This didn't last long due to Chris' impatient movements, whom had already gotten used to it. He re-angled his thrusts and forced into him harder. Chris felt what almost felt like hot electricity shoot up his spine "Ah, fuck!" he gasped before clenching his jaws and eyes shut, paying sole attention to the sensation shooting through his body.

Beads of sweat rolled down their bodies, Chris' hands balled into tight fists, feeling the need to grasp something. Wesker grinned, putting so much force into his thrusts that it felt like his bed might've crumbled.

_Chris is sure as hell gonna be sore tomorrow!_

Chris began incoherently mumbling "I… need…"

He ran the tip of his nose from Chris' neck to his chin, softly asking "What's that?"

Chris stifled a moan, practically throwing his head from side to side "I… need to touch you…."

Wesker couldn't possibly be any more amused with his co-worker than he was now. He released the rope binding Chris' wrists and turned to his neglected length. Pumping in time with his thrusts as he sped up, feeling Chris growing on edge.

He arched his head back, allowing Wesker to ensnare his neck again, his fingers touching every inch of toned muscle within reach. He felt his own muscles contract in his stomach while the blond's movement became erratic, he let an almost animalistic growl "-Ugh, Wesker-" he gripped the older man's hair just as his result of their lust exploded between them.

Wesker joined him soon afterwards, filling his now-official-lover with his seed.

Today was a basic replay of yesterday at work. The only difference, however, was that today Chris was limping around and was constantly shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The office door swung open and Jill slumped in, one foot dragging behind her and moaning inhumanly, her face was stained with colors of red, black, and brown. She stumbled slowly over to the coffeepot and started pouring herself a nice, get-rid-of-your-hangover cup of joe. Chris looked at her and blinked a few times as she cursed under her breath "Looks like someone had fun last night."

Her entire body turned towards him, not even noticing that she was currently redecorating the office floor with coffee "I COULD SAY THE SAME ABOUT YOU!" she screeched, then abruptly lowered her voice to a whisper "And you think you could keep your voice down? I have a massive headache. . ."

"Jeez, and I thought Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was scary." He whispered, turning his head back to his gigantic stack of paperwork. He noticed a sketch of a man who looked a lot like Wesker –well okay, not a lot. Just the hair and he looked like he might have the same type of accent. Otherwise the dude looked like a total piece of cheese. Chris cleared his throat while skimming the information, apparently the sketch was a depiction of a suspect accused of raping several young men in the area. The only other clues they had about the man was that the victims reported that they all had found a sharpie-message in bathroom stalls, that had all said "For a good time, call Al at 681-3012." Chris thought about that for a moment. "W-Wesker, um can you come here a minute?"

Wesker smirked sexily and walked over to the young brunet "Of course…Chriis. What is it that you _need_?"

Chris blushed deeply, thinking of Wesker's long, thick, and before created a problem for himself again, he quickly averted his eyes to the closest thing to him; Which was Wesker's long, thick, delicious looking sub.

_Wow, and THAT didn't come out wrong. Hmm, come… c-u---- Okay, I should just stop there._

"Would you like some of my footlong?" Wesker asked, holding the sub adjacent to his….er…himself.

Brad walked in that very moment and saw Chris' head leaning close to Wesker's hips "GYAAHHHH! HOW CAN YOU DO THAT IN PUBLIC?!"

Chris' Head immediately pulled away, pieces of Sweet Onion Teriyaki chicken hanging out of his mouth, he mumbled "Bwad! Itsnot wat oo fink!"

_Wow, I sure hope I don't have to translate that one. . . _

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE IT SHRNK!!! I'M GONNA STAND BY AND LET YOU DEFILE THE OFFICE LIKE THIS!!" Brad practically squealed, failing his arms like a hyperactive cartoon character.

_Okay then, maybe I should've translated that for Chicken Heart. . ._

Barry's concentration was broken due to helicopter pilot's erratic behavior and looked at the two men he was shouting at "How is sharing a sandwich defiling the office? I for one love Sub Way."

Brad's arms hung in the air, taking another look at his two co-workers, his cheeks reddening with obvious embarrassment "Well, um…oh…yeahh, sandwich…that's what I thought it was…"

Everyone watched Brad make a B-line for the exit and immediately went back to whatever they were doing beforehand. Once Chris was sure no one was paying attention to them, he whispered to Wesker "That was close."

"I suppose it was…no thanks to you panicking." Wesker leaned on Chris' desk, his hand rested on the file containing information about the mystery blondie.

"Oh yeah, I was thinking, we already know this guy's number, so all we have to call it and bag 'im, right?" Chris said through another bite of Wesker's lunch.

The Captain pondered for a moment, "Hmm, that's actually quite a brilliant idea. I knew there was another reason I hired you."

Chris looked at him his usual dumbfounded expression "Why'd you hire me then?"

"Because you're sexy." He answered plainly.

Chris bushed madly, his face twisted in so many different emotions at once he looked retarded "What -really?" he felt all warm and fuzzy inside but remembered they were less than five feet from their other two co-workers, when he spoke his voice inadvertently went from Barry-deep to higher-pitched-Jill "Umm, ahem, thanks Wesker…So um, the plan?"

"Yes, yes, my apologies for getting off track." He picked up his cell phone and handed it to Chris.

"Okay…" he took a deep breath, saying each digit out loud as he pressed the buttons "6, 8, 1…3, 0, 1, 2…"

"_Hello?"_ the man on the other end actually did have an English accent like Wesker. –Only Wesker's was sexy.

Chris cleared his throat, "Hi, um, I found your number…and um, I thought I'd give you a try."

Wesker stifled a grin, watching his young counterpart already getting flustered.

"_Excellent. We shall meet at the bar next to War Memorial Apartments."_

Chris almost choked "Jack's Bar, I know where that's at. It's a date then."

Wesker had to keep from laughing by covering his mouth with a black-gloved hand.

"_See you at eight tonight then, loverboy."_ This 'Al' man hung up.

Chris flipped the phone closed and lightly backhanded Wesker's thigh "Dude, don't laugh!"

"Forgive me, -'it's a date then'!" Wesker mocked him.

"Grrr. Stop it, Wesker!" he whined, crossing his arms and whispered "I don't think it's funny! That guy is a rapist, okay?"

Wesker straightened back up "Well, when you put it that way… I suppose I'll follow you to the rendezvous point."

"I thought you'd take me? I don't have a car." He pouted.

"What happened to your Chevelle?" Wesker raised an eyebrow.

Chris hung his head "It's in the shop."

"AGAIN?!" Jill shouted, "It's in the shop every other day!"

"Yeah, Chris, if I were you, I'd get rid of it." Barry chimed in too.

_Apparently it's "Gang-up-on-Chris-about-his-crappy-car-time"._

"I can't afford to get another car-"

"That piece of crap keeps breaking down. Plus it still has an 8 track* in it!" She noted, it was amazing she was talking so much. You know, hangover and all.

Barry sighed at the female's materialistic statement "Honestly, Chris, the spark plugs and distributor are bad, your power-steering fluid leaks, and the transmission slips on top of everything else. Some of those problems aren't expensive to fix if you do it yourself, but a lot of it is."

Wesker put a hand on the younger's back "I can pick you up and drop you off. You'll have a car in no-time."

Chris quickly waved his hands in front of him "No, no, no, that's not necessary! You live on the opposite side of town from me!"

"It's really no trouble, Chris…Anything for you." Wesker grinned.

"But-"

Barry interrupted, wanting to finish his paperwork so he could leave early "The Capt. said he's got your back so quit complaining and get back to work."

Chris nodded solemnly, knowing he couldn't change Wesker's mind. He was flattered the Wesker was willing to go through so much trouble for him but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel guilty even though he was extremely sick of walking to and from work (and only a few days of it). He looked up at the clock; 11:47...Today was going to be a long day. Even after he got off work, he'd have about an hour free before he had to go meet this Al guy for his 'date'.

…

..

.

Yep. Totally botched the sex scene. My "b".

Apparently I caved under pressure, I ending up using an unused piece of an older story I wrote about them. So anything was kinda good came from the old one-shot.

Oh yeah, this chapter was REALLY long, I'm talkin' like almost 8,000 words, so I chopped it up best I could into three parts.


	7. Flippin’ FINALLY, pt Two

**WARNING!!!!!!! **This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy! **P.S. **If you're reading this despite the fact that you don't like the idea of a Chris and Wesker pairing parody, I don't care. I'm not forcing you to read it. Flames will be laughed at, mostly because you're too retarded to be able to laugh at your favorite characters. I can. And I am. **P.P.S.**, this is Bruce, the co-writer. I'm a huge fan of R.E. (and most likely a bigger fan THAN YOU.), and I find this concept hilarious. And I don't like gay guys, -okay that's a lie, I don't like the prissy-mcbutt-gravy ones. FYI, that was another lie, have a sense of humor. **P.P.P.S.** This is Wesker, moody, no-sense-of-humor Wesker. I would like to say that I find this story to be quite delightful. Thank you for your time. NOW EAT THE UROBOROS!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Six: **Flippin' FINALLY, pt Two

And that time came far too swiftly for him. He and Wesker were on the way to the local men's clothing store (Jill heard about the mission that they were heading out and warned Wesker of Chris' major lack in this little thing called style). Chris sat deathly still until "I'm Never Gonna Dance Again" popped up on the radio and his hand unconsciously moved to turn it up. Wesker did the same simultaneously, their fingertips lightly made contact. Chris immediately shrunk back with a high-pitched squeal and tucked his hands between his knees. The scene reminded him of a female high school virgin about to ---his train of thought was cut short when he realized he always compared the rookie boy to females. He decided it was mostly due to the fact that even though Chris was handsome and apparently a mac-daddy among the ladies, he acted girly and skittish around him. Then he decided that it was because of him (Wesker) and it wasn't his fault for making Chris act like a pussy. He couldn't help the fact that he was hot.

Wesker turned the volume dial up a tad, just enough to hear George Michael's voice clearly, "Well, then."

"Sorry." He said, cheeks slowly cooling down from red to a light pink. "Why exactly do we have to go…_shopping_?" He gave an obvious shudder with the last word as if it was something evil. Something far worse than the reason he was doing it for.

The blond glanced at him slightly through the side of his sunglasses "Because you can't go in your gym clothes, your Air Force outfit, or your work uniform."

"Why not?"

"Think before you speak, Lug-head." Was his flat reply.

Chris stared at the floorboard, squinting as he racked his head for a reason. Then after two full minutes, the light switch turned on "Ooohhhh. We don't have to get anything expensive, right?"

Wesker shook his head, "Calm down, Christopher. I'll take care of the clothing. Think of it as a gift, something you can continue to wear next time we go out."

His lips lemon-puckered thoughtfully, "We getta go out somewhere again? Like to a restaurant?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Redfield. To go out with our co-workers is one thing, but having dinner and wine together is another, we have reputations to live up to as the city's Special Operatives unit."

Chris sighed as he imagined it, yeah, that would most definitely draw stares. He leaned back into his seat and muttered, "Yeah, I guess so."

The car's engine cut off and they stepped out into the parking lot of one of Raccoon City's finest male clothing stores. Of course, Chris being Chris and all, once they headed inside he ran to the fugliest clothes he could spot. In less than two minutes, he picked out an entire outfit, though it left Wesker nearly –if not completely- appalled. Chris pouted after seeing Wesker grimace "…You don't like it?"

"No." Wesker immediately responded, "You look like Denis Rodman. Only worse."

Chris frowned "Who's that?"

"Are you serious? What, did you grow up in a cave or something?" Wesker sighed. This was going to take a lot of effort on his part. Otherwise, Chris wouldn't make it to the first game. "Come on, Chris, follow me."

He followed his captain to the right side of the store, where the formalwear was and before he knew it, he was already in the dressing room trying outfits on. "Um…. Wesker?"

"What?" he slightly snapped, irritated because he'd actually found a few things he'd like to own. But that feeling quietly subsided as soon as he spun around and set eyes on his sweet, innocent, extremely stupid lover "I'm sorry, Chris, what do you need?"

Chris stood with his arms slightly out, showing obvious discomfort "Don't you think it's a little…much?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's all black."

Wesker raised an eyebr

ow "That statement is like a kick to the groin."

"Why?"

He smirked slightly, yes, anyone else would've definitely pissed him off. But, for some reason, he found Chris rather cute. He turned around a full three-sixty, and waited for Chris to figure it out.

"Ohhh, wow Wesker, I never noticed you dressed so drab. Maybe we should switch hair colors." Chris peeled the black dress shirt over his head, accidently popping one of the buttons.

"Perhaps we should. Also, good job on your vocabulary usage, Chris, I'm actually surprised you know what 'drab' means." He patted Chris on the head like a puppy, the action cause Chris' overly gelled hair to make a crunching sound. Wesker cleared his throat "Hair gel is next to go."

"But you wear hair gel, too."

"Yes, though the kind I use doesn't give your hair that crunchy feeling after it dries. See, feel." He grabbed the brunet's hand and smoothed it over the soft strands.

Chris blushed shyly at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed with Wesker's hand over his (even though he was wearing gloves) "Oh, that's nice. It's so soft!"

"Yes, now for comparison…" he grabbed Chris' other hand and touched it to his own hair, earning the exact same crunching sound.

Chris' face twisted in disgust "I see what you mean… It feels like I put a ton of jiz in it."

"Precisely. Now come here." Wesker effortlessly knocked Chris to the ground and straddled his chest.

"Ah! You just said we can't do stuff like this in public!" he struggled against the older man's weight and sheer strength.

"Resistance is futile! Now calm down, I'm getting that crap out of your hair." He stripped off one of his gloves and ran it through Chris' hair to loosen the stiffened mess.

Chris winced slightly, "Ow, ow, Wesker, not so rough!"

"I thought you said you liked it rough, you little bitch!" Wesker raked his fingers quicker, for fear that someone would see them.

"Ouuuuch, not my hair! Wesk-" Chris' sentence was cut short by someone's sudden fake cough. Both men froze and turned towards the unexpected noise.

A man with black, shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail stood in front of them, a suit draped over his forearm.

"WHAT?!" Wesker spat, trying to recover from the interruption.

The man raised an eyebrow, "You're blocking the dressing room."

"Oh." Wesker cleared his throat, yanking Chris with him as he stood to his feet. "Ugh, sorry, about that, um, how's the boy suppose to get a girl with hair like that, ya know?"

_Ah, the one time Wesker's fabrications falter._

The man simply nodded in agreement "Too much gel."

_Okay, this guy is just as dense as Chris._

They watched the stranger disappear into the dressing room. Chris exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in the first place, "Close again today, man I'm starting to think I'm not cut out for this whole thing."

Wesker soothingly patted Chris' back, thoughtful expression on his face "It's not your fault, Chris. It's mine."

His eyebrows knitted briefly, it was true that he was the one that ran his fingers through his hair and jumped on him, but Wesker wouldn't have had to if he didn't struggle.

The captain suddenly flashed a cocky smirk "I know it's probably near impossible for you to keep your hands off me. Not that I blame you, of course."

"Hmph, and here I thought you were being serious." He said, childishly shrugging Wesker's hand away from him.

"Why would I? Nothing is ever my fault." He suppressed a snicker, messing with a flustered Chris Redfield was just too much fun.

"Nuh-uh! You didn't have to-"

Wesker interrupted "And I'm always right. Now get your tight little ass in that changing room," he gave Chris a swift slap on the rear, eliciting a small yelp from the young man "I've got another idea."

Chris rubbed himself, mumbling what sounded like curse words under his breath as he re-entered the dressing room.

"And make it snappy," he ordered, looking at his watch "we only have thirty minutes before we have to leave."

"Sir, yes, sir." He said sarcastically, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall to his ankles as he reached for his work shirt and vest.

Literally two minutes later, Wesker glanced at his watch again, prepared to go in there and drag Chris out whether he was dressed or not. Luckily for his counterpart, he stepped out before Wesker could even take his first step. "What took you so damn long?" as soon as Chris opened his mouth to reply, Wesker interrupted "Never mind that, follow me."

Chris grumbled to himself, not understanding why Wesker had suddenly gotten so short with him. He considered that maybe it was because he got on his captain's nerves, or possibly that the said captain was bipolar. Wesker quickly sifted through a rack of shirts, muttering single words like "Ugly" and "Small" and the ever usual "Worthless!", occasionally tossing 'maybes' over his arm until he noticed Chris' somber, deep-in-thought expression. He was still a little irritated with him, and it showed "Aw, what's the matter, my sweet little pookie-bear, did I hurt my Chrisky's feelings?"

At first, Chris didn't catch the sarcasm and sniffled a little "An itsy bit."

Wesker rolled his eyes "Good. Now hold this."

Chris held the shirts close to himself, pouting and glaring at Wesker, watching the man pull out a few pairs of pants.

"Okay, go try these on." He handed them to Chris, who was still using his 'you're-a-big-meanie-head' face. Wesker groaned in irritation "Chris. You're twenty-three years old. Act like it. I don't intend to seem angry with you, but time is a factor. We need to get this done quickly, I'll make it up to you later. So, pretty please, with sugar on top, put the fucking clothes on."

_Yeah, sure, he sounds like he's being a dick, but he was right; if they didn't hurry up they'd end up getting there about the same time that "Al" got there. Plus -as you all know- Wesker's not known for being a tardy sweetheart like Chris in this story, so yeah…okay never mind. He's a dick. Wow, I wasted so much time babbling that Chris is already done trying on the first outfit, let's take a look, shall we?_

"Okay, Chrisky, give us a nice spin around." Wesker swirled a gloved finger around in the air as Chris modeled the tight green tee with khakis "Yes, good, go on and try the other one on."

Chris' attitude picked up a little when he heard that Wesker liked it, so it was time for him to try on the outfit that he picked out. He changed in a record one-point-ninety-six seconds and exited the dressing room.

Wesker blinked underneath his glasses, staring at the black-and-white zebra-striped pants with matching over shirt and black shirt "If you're going out like that," He rubbed his temples in frustration "we might as well dye your hair gray."

"You don't like it? I'm wearing black and even sunglasses like yours."

"Yes but that's the only good thing about that outfit. The print is garish and just plain tacky." Wesker said, nudging him back into the dressing room. He understood Chris was trying to be more like him, which was cute, but the boy wouldn't know style even if it smacked him in the forehead at mach-three speed.

Chris walked back out, this time sporting a fitted white short-sleeved shirt with jeans "What about this then?"

"Yes, I like this one a lot, it accentuates your round ass quite nicely. I think it's missing something though…" he tapped his chin lightly, wondering what would complete the look when, suddenly, he had it –or literally the rack behind Chris had it; a brown leather jacket reading 'Made in Heaven' with nukes above it. He quickly pulled off the rack "Try this."

Chris slipped his arms through and turned his head around to see what it looked like in the full-length mirror. He nodded to himself "This looks awesome."

"'Awesome' isn't the word for it," he stated, a raging hard-on growing at an alarming rate "fuckable-for-five-bucks about says it all."

Chris was totally oblivious to the 'impending danger' threatening to pound him into next week "That's five words, Wesker. But yeah, it's even comfortable which is a total plus." He bent over to touch his toes, sealing his fate.

At that point, Wesker's entire demeanor crumbled for all to see; without think, Wesker grabbed the back of Chris' pants and carried him by them towards the dressing room.

"Eeeeeek!" Chris shrieked "Wesker, put me down! I don't like being carried!" He frantically scratched at the floor, attempting to grab hold of something, anything. "What'd I do????"

"Stop struggling! We can still get to the bar on time if we make this quick!"

"Quick what???? Wesker, you're scaring me!!!" Chris flailed his legs.

He basically through Chris into the claustrophobic, cheap drywall area, locking the door behind him. Despite the room's tiny proportions

_Which is designed to shelter only one full-grown man, so you can imagine how tight-a-fit it is to shove two fully-grown muscular men into one._

Chris managed to stand up, chest to chest with Wesker. The light bulb lit up in Chris' head, finally, after feeling Wesker's 'problem' pushed up against him. He didn't even have enough time to say anything even as short as "oohhh" before Wesker's lips were pressed firmly against his. Wesker planted hands on either side of Chris' face to give himself better access, their short, nearly desperate kisses heating up the situation so quickly that they thought they might actually finish in time after all. Wesker's hands slowly snaked down Chris' face and neck, slipping under the jacket and sliding it down his arms, further restricting the younger's movements. Chris slipped his tongue into Wesker's mouth, while the latter untucked the white shirt and stuck his hands inside the younger's boxers.

There was a sudden knock on the door, Wesker snarled and spat "WHAT?!?!"

There was a nervous cough on the other side of the door. Both S.T.A.R.S. members froze realizing that Wesker should've just kept his big mouth shut in the first place and the person might've left. They waited for him or her or it to say something, a feminine male voice spoke "Um, excuse me sir, but intercourse is not allowed in our dressing rooms so I'm forced to ask you and the lady to step out now."

Wesker smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead in frustration, and whispered "This is all your fault, Chris!"

"How is it my fault?! You're the one that carried me in here!" he whispered back as low as he was able, which, luckily for them, made him sound like a girl to the outsiders.

"How dare you! I told nothing's ever my fault, even if it is! You were the one looking all sexy like that, I couldn't help myself, you could've kept your moaning down!"

"That's a natural reaction, you jerk!" Chris shoved Wesker back a full inch, to where both their backs were touching opposite walls.

Wesker glared at Chris through his glasses and shoved Chris, "No one shoves the great Albert Wesker! Therefore it is your fault!"

"I won't be blamed, Wesker, not on my watch!" said whisper-shouted, trying to shove harder by forcing his body flush with the captain's.

"You're not wearing a watch, stupid." He pushed Chris back against the wall.

"Don't call me stupid, stupid!"

Wesker shoved him again, "Is that all you have, Chris? Only a complete moron would deny the inevitable!"

"Stop shoving me!" he shoved him back as hard as he could.

"Then stop shoving me!"

"NEVER!!!!" Chris SOMEHOW managed to execute a flying tackle on Wesker, the impact knocked a few bolts out of the drywall.

"That does it!" with inhumanly great force, Wesker palm-thrusted Chris while yelling "Cobra Strike!"

The entire dressing area crumbled to pieces, the back wall knocked Wesker on top of Chris and covering them up. They froze once again, in another oh-shit moment. Wesker's 'survival instinct' finally kicked in, in the next half-second, he jumped up and _dash_ed off. If the _Matrix_ was around back then, that's what it would be compared to. Before he could realize what was going on, Chris was being helped to his feet by the sales associate.

"Oh, my gosh, are you alright, sir?" the rather flamboyant male gasped.

Chris rubbed the back of his head "Yeah, I think I'm okay."

"I am so sorry, sir, we've been putting off renovating that old dressing room so long that-" the sales rep covered his own mouth, realizing he said something very, very foolish.

And miraculously, Chris picked up on it "Gee, I'm surprised that I wasn't crushed to death by the debris. You know, I think we can work a deal."

He bit his lower lip, "Um, all right, I'll give you a two-hundred dollar gift card and we'll forget about the whole thing, okay?"

"I don't know, my neck hurts a little… Better make it three." He shifted his shoulders slightly, his neck popping in response.

The sales rep's left eye twitched on it's own accord, he huffed slightly "Fine. I give you a three-hundred dollar gift card and you forget that you were ever here fucking some floozy."

"Deal." Chris smiled smugly while he watched the employee ring up the gift card.

The man huffed again and said, "Nice doing business with you, sir."

"Come on, man, no hard feelings. I could've sapped a lot more money from this store if I were to sue, so you're pretty lucky."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that already." He lightly snapped, trying to shoo him off "Now please, sir, my managers might come here at any minute!"

Chris stuffed the free plastic money in his pocket, sloppily saluted the sales rep before gathering his work clothes and new attire, and set off to find Wesker.

The man sighed, looking at the wreckage, feeling defeated "I got jipped by a punk."

Chris found Wesker leaning up against a shelf of jeans about twenty feet away from the 'crash' area, the blond slicked his hair back "What took you so long?"

He glared "How could you just ditch me like that? That was so not cool, man."

"Serves you right. Beside, just think about what would've happened if I stayed? How would have that gone?" he smirked.

"Good point…" he shrugged, he reached into his pocket "Oh yeah, look, you don't have to buy my clothes now!"

Wesker looked at it for a moment "Don't have to, but am anyway."

"But why? I thought you were just buying it cuz I couldn't."

"Yes, but it had another purpose; so you can't say I never did anything nice for you." He pushed himself off the shelf to stand upright.

"Aw, Wesker, that's so sweet! I lov-" before Chris could finish his sentence and hug him, Wesker smacked him upside the head.

"Don't be a moron. Now let's go." He placed a hand on Chris' back and led him to the registers.

The cashier gave them a funny look, mostly to Chris, who was covered in a chalky-white substance from the drywall and was still wearing the clothes un-purchased clothing "Will this be all for you, gentlemen?"

"Yes, thank you. As you can see, my friend here was quite taken with this outfit." Wesker smirked.

The girl raised an eyebrow, and mumbled under her breath, "That's not all he was taken with. M' Gay-dar's off the chart."

_LOL, Gay-dar, it's like radar only instead of detecting objects, it's detects gays! This chick is funny!_

"What was that?" Wesker thinned his lips into a light line.

"Nothing!" the blonde girl chuckled nervously and all-too-quickly started scanning the clothes. She cleared her throat, now trying not to make eye-contact with either of them for fear of getting smited "That'll be three hundred-thirty-nine dollars and seventeen cents."

Chris almost gagged when he heard the ticket price, and then again when he saw Wesker nonchalantly pull out a huge wad of cash the size of Chris' fist. Mostly hundreds "Um, ma'am, are you sure that's right?? That sounds a little steep."

Still averting, her eyes, the girl scanned the receipt "one-hundred for the coat, fifty for the jeans, seven items total… it looks right to me, sir, but I'll give it to you after I ring it through."

Chris watched the girl punch in the numbers and the register drawer pop open. Wesker collected the change and handed the clothing bag to Chris. "Now, we can still get a few drinks in if we haul ass."


	8. Flippin’ FINALLY, pt Three

**WARNING!!!!!!! **This story contains adult language, sexual themes, violence, and my favorite; slash! Slash is male on male entertainment, if this offends or displeases you, then click the back button now. Otherwise, enjoy! **P.S. **If you're reading this despite the fact that you don't like the idea of a Chris and Wesker pairing parody, I don't care. I'm not forcing you to read it. Flames will be laughed at, mostly because you're too retarded to be able to laugh at your favorite characters. I can. And I am. **P.P.S.**, this is Bruce, the co-writer. I'm a huge fan of R.E. (and most likely a bigger fan THAN YOU.), and I find this concept hilarious. And I don't like gay guys, -okay that's a lie, I don't like the prissy-mcbutt-gravy ones. FYI, that was another lie, have a sense of humor. **P.P.P.S.** This is Wesker, moody, no-sense-of-humor Wesker. I would like to say that I find this story to be quite delightful. Thank you for your time. NOW EAT THE UROBOROS!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Resident Evil series nor its characters. 'Cause if I did, you'd end up with something like this. . .

**Chapter Six: **Flippin' FINALLY, pt Three

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The captain drove like a bat-out-of-hell while changing into something less conspicuous, nearly creaming several passing pedestrians in the process. Luckily for the two operatives, they made it to Jack's Bar in a record seven-point-nine seconds and no fatalities, unlike the last time Wesker drove that fast and multitasking at the same time. "Ha! Let the drinking commence!" he said, walking in with Chris.

The poor boy was ghost-white, his voice was slightly shaky "Yeah. Drink. Good. Drink."

The last word was said more for himself than anyone else. Will smiled gleefully "Mr. Wesker, I wasn't expecting you here tonight! You two sure are dressed funny. I've never seen you without your uniforms!"

"Shhhhhh," Wesker hushed "We're under cover tonight."

"Don't you mean under coverssss tonight?" he winked.

Wesker rolled his eyes "Not like that, you imbecile. We're trying to catch a rapist here in town, Chris is posing as his blind date."

"Lucky," Will giggled "I wish I could get raped…by Cindy."

"The rapist is a man." Wesker stated.

Will's eyes bugged a little, the flow of his next words made him sound more like he was singing "Whoooa, too much infooo."

Chris growled childishly "Look, I'm not happy about this either, okay?? Just give me somethin' hard!"

"By the sound of it," Will smirked "you're gonna get something hard whether you like it or not."

"Shut up and give me a drink, Will." He glared, slumping on the bar.

"Don't worry, Christopher, I'll keep you safe from the big, bad, rump-rioter."

"Not you to, Wes. You suck." He moaned.

Wesker leaned close to Chris and whispered in his ear "I could say the same thing about you but with one difference; you swallow."

Despite the fact that Will's place of work got really loud due to the constant use of the jukebox, which wasn't currently playing anything, he had exceptional hearing. He cleared his throat "So what'll you gents havin'?"

"Beer." Chris replied quickly.

"Set me up with five shots."

"Wow, someone wants to get drunk off his ass tonight." Will smiled, setting five shot glasses on the bar in front of Wesker.

Chris glanced at Wesker "Cancel my order, I want shots too."

Wesker raised an eyebrow "Have you ever done shots before?"

Chris shook his head. "No, but I have a good tolerance to beer, so what would be the difference?"

Will stifled a chuckle and set a sixth shot glass on the bar "I'll start you off with one and see if you can knack it."

Chris watched him pour vodka in the shot glasses consecutively, he nervously picked his up.

Wesker held his up to toast "To drinking while on the job."

Chris nodded and they simultaneously drank them. The brunet's face twisted in disgust and what looked like pain "Never mind, make it beer!"

Will threw his head back laughing, grabbing a beer glass "That's what I thought!"

Wesker smirked, throwing back another shot "Light-weight."

"Well I'm sorry I'm young and still have taste buds." Chris pouted, taking a few gulps of his beer to wash away the, as he would put it, atrocious taste of the vodka.

Wesker just shook his head, "Let's just enjoy each other's company for the while. Your date will be here soon."

"So, Chris," Will leaned on the bar, while refilling Wesker's empty glasses "this date of yours, is he cute?"

Chris rolled his eyes "He looks kinda like Wesker. And he's not my flippin' date for crying out loud!"

"Sure he's not. The captain seems to think so."

Wesker nodded in concurrence, noticing a strange-looking character staring oddly at Chris but tried to ignore it "Yes, what ever you have to tell yourself to go to sleep at night."

"Will you guys shut up already?"

They both snickered at the aggravated young man.

"Okay, look, I'm going to the bathroom. When I get back, you assholes better've wiped off those shit-eating grins." He chugged the last of his beer and took his jacket off before heading to the bathrooms.

Wesker once again noticed the man staring at his young lover. Wesker growled when the man looked at _his_ Chris' ass and started to follow him. Wesker drank his fifth shot before getting up to approach the man. "What the hell do you think you're doing? That fine little piece of ass is mine!"

The blond male looked up at Wesker, being quite a bit shorter than the captain. The red suit he wore wasn't helping either. "Pardon me, but you do not have the authority to be questioning the likes of me."

"You pompous ass. I wipe shit from my shoes with a vagabond like you." Wesker spat.

"Well, I never!" the stranger was taken aback "You are my bath tissue, I wipe my buttocks with you! So smug with your gloves and glasses, what're you hiding under there, anyway? Are you missing an eye or something?" the stranger scrutinized him, trying to peak behind them.

"You check out my boyfriend and now you've insulted my shades? You've got a short and extremely painful life ahead of you."

"You are the unwashed! You will not touch me!" The shorter blond spat.

Wesker grabbed him by the back of his shirt and literally dragged him to the back exit.

He yelped, flailing his arms to where his characteristics took on a cartoony feel "RAPPEEE!"

Chris returned from the bathroom, the blonde girl that worked there approached him "Hey, Chris," she checked him out in his fitted white tee "you know, if I wanted to make myself seem like a smart blonde, I'd say you have a ten-pack!"

"Look, Cindy, you're nice and all but….umm, let's just say the Redfield name will die with me." He smiled to himself, turned around and upwardly punched the air victoriously "Ha! In your face mom!"

Wesker re-entered the bar a few minutes later, dusting himself off.

"Where'd you go? I was starting to think you ditched me." Chris nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't be silly, I was merely taking out the trash." He slicked his hair back, and walked with Chris back to the bar.

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*An 8 track player is what people used to listen to music (usually in cars) before cassette tapes were invented.

RANDOM STUFF:

Bruce and I were bored and I took his Chris action figure and made it type this: "I love it when Weskey pounds me into next week, HURT ME BABY!" Then I pulled up a Wesker picture on my phone and made "Chris" look at it, then at something it was 'holding' and back and forth like that until yeah… it was a funny way to pass the time.

Oh, and this chapter probably isn't very funny. It's probably because I've been reading Infected by Scott Sigler. It's a great book but I'm having a hard time putting it down, so instead of writing in my free time I've been reading. But anyway, I'll stop rambling.

CAMEOS:

"Al" was mentioned in the sequel, The Secret Life of Chris and Wesker, and he's an actual R.E. character -Alfred Ashford ^_^ (Code Veronica). Don't like the guy much, but he's fun to pick on. I figured the reason he was added to the series was because Wesker 'died' (which is why they're similar, but Wesker is way cooler). Oh, and Bruce and I made up the apartment building's name.

The man that sees Chris and Wesker feeling up on each other's hair is none other than David the plumber from Resident Evil: Outbreak. We thought it'd be cool if someone saw them, and we considered Will the Bartender but he makes more cameos than he really deserves.

The blonde-haired girl at Jack's bar is Cindy (RE: Outbreak)

Blonde-haired cashier from the clothing store = me. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Doesn't make a lot of sense having my currently 22 year-old self in a story that takes place in 1996 seeing as how I would've actually been 9 years old.


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